Tragedy for Zorro
by KathyG
Summary: When Felipe is shot, Don Diego is powerless to help him-but is Zorro?


**TRAGEDY FOR ZORRO**

**By KathyG.**

**When Felipe is shot, Don Diego is powerless to help him-but is Zorro?**

**Disclaimer: The name, character, and likeness of Zorro is a registered trademark of Zorro Productions Inc. These stories are not intended to infringe on their rights. The storylines and additional characters (not including Zorro/Don Diego, Don Alejandro, Felipe, Victoria Escalante, Sergeant Mendoza, and the **_**alcalde**_**) are copyrighted 1998-2003 by KathyG. (Some of these stories include the name of Felipe's horse, Parche. The horse's name is used with the permission of Ruth Parker, who invented the name to use in her own wonderful fanfiction. To access her Zorro stories, click on ~ .) These stories are made purely for entertainment purposes.**

Two _caballeros_ trotted their Andalusian horses through the _plaza_ gates of Los Angeles. They had on snow-white, fine linen shirts with ruffled sleeves, silk neckties, fancy vests, and broadcloth jackets and trousers. The older man pulled a fine linen handkerchief out of his vest pocket and wiped the sweat off his face.

"Well, Diego," he said, "do you think the _alcalde_ will find the thieves who broke into his office last night?"

Don Diego de la Vega, who sat tall and straight in the saddle, like his father, thought for a moment. "He certainly means to try," he said. "It infuriates him when anyone steals from his safe."

Don Alejandro nodded agreement. "I wish he'd become just as aroused when thieves steal from others," he said. "This same gang of thieves has been burglarizing _haciendas_ around here for two weeks, now, but the _alcalde_ refused to take any action until he himself was robbed. He only takes real action when he or his garrison is threatened. Remember the _bandidos_ who tried to kill him last month, at the dedication ceremony for the new church bell?"

"How could I forget?" Don Diego shook his head. "He's since placed a bounty on the head of the one who got away. At least, so far, these new _bandidos_ haven't stolen from us."

Don Diego sighed and drew out his own handkerchief from his inside jacket pocket. "It's unusually warm for the first of March." He wiped his damp face. "I'm eager to get home so I can get inside our cool library. And it's time I gave Felipe his lessons." Felipe was the de la Vegas' houseboy. A young orphan, he was mute, and pretended to be deaf as well, so he could spy for Zorro the Fox without endangering his or Don Diego's life. Diego made a mental note to ride as Zorro as soon as the boy's lessons were finished, so Zorro could look for the _bandidos_. He would need Felipe's help when the time came.

"Yes, and I need to balance the books," Don Alejandro said.

The two men urged their horses to canter.

**ZZZZZ**

Meanwhile, back at the de la Vega _hacienda_, three men wearing masks and riding horses stopped at the front gate. They tied their horses to the hitching post.

"Shh!" one of the men hissed. "If anyone hears us, we'll hang! We must hurry before the de la Vegas come back."

"_Sí,_ and we must watch out for the servants, too," another said.

The _bandidos_ crept through the gate and toward the door. They tiptoed up the porch steps and opened the smooth, polished mahogany doors. Silently, they crept into the spacious entry.

They sneaked into the library and looked around. There was no one in the library, the dining room, or the drawing room. One of the bandits sighed and drew off his mask.

"Paco! Put your mask back on!" One of the others glared at him.

"I will, when I cool off!" The first one glared back, as he wiped his face with the back of his hand. "Now, come on. We don't have much time."

The bandits started gathering expensive items. One picked up a small marble statuette. Another picked up a gold timepiece and a cameo he found lying on a bookshelf.

**ZZZZZ**

In the kitchen, Felipe sat at the rough pine table with three other servants, daydreaming. While the four servants drank glasses of cold lemonade, María, the de la Vega cook, stood at the fireplace heating some soup. Earlier, Felipe had fed and groomed Zorro's black stallion, Toronado. He had dusted Don Diego's science equipment and had swept the laboratory floor adjoining Toronado's stable. He had finished setting Don Diego's houseplants out on the front terrace several minutes before. Now, he was relaxing.

_I must get my schoolbooks and things out in a few minutes,_ he thought. _Don Diego said he would give me my lessons when he and Don Alejandro return, and he wants me to have everything ready._ He took a sip of lemonade.

"What are you thinking about, _muchacho_?" The carriage driver broke into the boy's reverie. Felipe looked at him and shrugged, then glanced down at his own glass, now practically empty.

After a moment, Felipe rose from the bench. He left the kitchen and strolled down the hall toward the dining room. As he entered it, he heard footsteps in the library.

_Are they back already?_ Felipe wondered silently. He hurried toward the library. Suddenly, he froze in the library entry and stared, horrified.

Three bandits were stealing objects in the library! Two of them wore masks.

The one who had removed his mask froze, in his turn. He then whipped a pistol out of his holster and whirled around.

_BANG!_

Excruciating pain shot through Felipe's chest. As he clutched it, everything went black.

**ZZZZZ**

The de la Vegas pulled their horses up short on the crest of the hill that overlooked their _hacienda_ from a distance.

"What was that?" Don Diego gasped. "That-that gunshot sounded like it came from our _hacienda_!"

"Look!" Don Alejandro pointed. From the hill, they could see three masked bandits bolting through the front gate. The bandits sprang on their horses and galloped away.

Don Diego and Don Alejandro gaped at each other. Without a word, they urged their own horses to gallop. At the gate, they jumped off their horses and handed them over to a groom. They rushed into the entry, then froze.

The library had been ransacked! Books and chess pieces lay scattered on the floor. The clock lay face-up on the chessboard. Then Diego caught his breath as he saw a crumpled form on the gleaming marble floor, unconscious and bleeding.

"Felipe!" Don Diego gasped. "Felipe-!"

He and Don Alejandro rushed toward the boy and turned him over. The front of his shirt was stained with blood. Kneeling, Diego pressed his fingers against Felipe's wrist. To his relief, he felt a pulse.

"Quickly, Father, let's get him to his room." Don Diego's voice sounded hoarse and urgent.

"I'll send one of the servants to fetch the doctor." Don Alejandro raced toward the kitchen.

Don Diego lifted Felipe up in his arms and carried him to his room. He gently laid Felipe on the bed and yanked open the boy's rough, homespun cotton shirt. As Felipe lay limp and unconscious, Don Diego yanked the soft cotton handkerchief out of his jacket pocket again, and pressed it against the bullet wound.

He felt sick with worry. Felipe was like a son to him. "Felipe," he muttered in a choked voice. "Felipe, please don't die! Please live, _amigo_! We need you."

Don Diego had been through this ordeal twice before-once with his father and once with Victoria Escalante, a tavern owner who was in love with Zorro. Once, a _bandido_ who had stolen the military payroll had shot his father; another time, a gambler who was trying to kill Zorro had shot Victoria by mistake. Both had lain comatose on their deathbeds, fighting for their lives, while a helpless Diego had kept vigil at their bedsides. On both occasions, Felipe had stood loyally by Don Diego, supporting him in his anxiety, and doing more than his share of tasks so Diego could care first for his father, and then for Victoria. (Felipe had also rescued and nursed back to health Don Diego himself, when, as Zorro, he had fallen off a cliff when Toronado reared. To protect his identity, Don Diego had pretended to others that he had fallen off the de la Vegas' mare.)

Don Diego had fervently hoped that he would never go through such an ordeal again.

He opened the polished mahogany bureau's top drawer and took out one of Felipe's homespun cotton nightshirts. He laid it across the foot of the bed. Then, he slipped Felipe's woven leather sandals off his feet and untied the boy's wool sash. Diego then pressed his fingers against the chest wound to stop the bleeding. At that moment, Don Alejandro came in.

"I just sent Manuel to fetch Dr. Hernández," he said. "And I've sent Pablo to town to report this to the _alcalde_."

Diego nodded. _"Gracias."_

Minutes later, a servant showed the doctor in. Dr. Hernández wore a coal-black frock coat and a white silk necktie, and he carried a soft, black leather bag. He strode toward the bed and, setting the bag down, examined Felipe. He looked grim.

"This looks bad. He's bleeding heavily." He shook his head. "I'll have to act quickly, or the boy will be dead in a few hours." He looked at the de la Vegas. "I'll need a basin of hot water and a blanket."

Don Diego nodded and left the room. Don Alejandro opened the window drapes to let the sunshine in. He lit every candle in the bedroom. Dr. Hernández nodded his thanks.

The next few hours were anxious ones. The bullet was lodged deep in Felipe's chest, close to his heart. Don Alejandro held the boy's shoulders down while Diego, standing with his arms crossed, watched and silently prayed.

At last, Dr. Hernández slowly extracted the bullet. He then covered the wound thickly with soft cotton bandages, to stop the hemorrhaging.

"This is a very bad wound." Dr. Hernández sighed and shook his head. "I wish I could be more optimistic, but I can't. I've done the best I can; the rest is up to God. The boy is in critical condition. His chances of survival are not good."

Don Diego sighed heavily, as a stone seemed to settle in his heart. Don Alejandro laid a hand on his son's shoulder. "We will take turns, Diego and I, and sit up with him."

Dr. Hernández gazed at them for a moment. At last, he said, "Felipe is blessed to have you gentlemen as _patróns_."

Don Diego smiled. _"Gracias."_

Don Alejandro smiled proudly at Diego. "Diego loves Felipe dearly. My son will be a good father when he gets married, someday." Diego smiled back. Don Alejandro touched his son's shoulder as he and Diego gazed at the servant boy, lying limp and comatose under the soft bedcovers. "Felipe is a fine young man, and we love him very much. Diego and I can't ask for a better servant." Don Diego nodded agreement.

Dr. Hernández left the room. Diego fought back tears. "Father, if anything happens to Felipe, I'll-" He broke off.

Don Alejandro squeezed Diego's shoulder. "I know, son," he said softly. "I know. Do you wish to stay with Felipe, for now?"

Diego nodded. "Yes, I do."

"Then I'll go to the chapel to pray for his recovery." Don Alejandro left the room to go to the de la Vega chapel.

Slowly, Don Diego trudged toward the bed. He moved a polished pine chair right next to it, then sat down. Leaning forward, he gazed at the unconscious boy. A tear ran down his cheek, and he sighed. Absentmindedly, he fingered the snow-white linen sheet and the navy-blue satin quilt Felipe's limp arms rested on.

Don Diego's heart felt heavy. When Felipe was a little boy, before Don Diego had gone to Spain to attend Madrid University, Felipe had lost his parents, his speech, and his hearing in Mexico during one of the last battles of the August Revolution. Don Diego, who had been on his way back to California from Guadalajara at the time, had found the little peasant boy, lost and bereft, and had taken him to California. After Diego had tried vainly to find Felipe a home, the de le Vegas had hired Felipe as a houseboy.

Ever since then, Felipe had worked for the de la Vegas, and they had taken care of him and taught him manners. Now, Felipe was in his teens. After so many years of loving Felipe, caring for him, and giving him a proper upbringing and an excellent education, it was so hard for Diego to imagine having to go on without him, now. And how would Zorro manage his crusade against tyranny and injustice without Felipe to spy for him and help him in other ways? Felipe, who pretended he was still deaf so he could gather information without endangering Zorro or himself. Felipe, who would risk his own life if need be to help Zorro, he was so loving and loyal. Felipe, who would die before revealing Zorro's secret. His death would be a real tragedy for Zorro.

Don Diego thought about how loving Felipe was, how faithful, trustworthy, and fiercely loyal he was to his masters. How compliant, devout, well-behaved, and well-mannered. How skillfully, industriously, and thoroughly he performed his tasks. And how dear he was to the de la Vegas. He was as dear as a son to Don Diego; their relationship was as much father-son as it was master-servant. It would devastate Diego and his father to lose him, Diego felt sure.

Suddenly, a familiar female voice spoke in the doorway. "Don Diego?"

Diego looked up. Victoria Escalante stood in the doorway.

Diego rose to his feet and walked toward her. "Sergeant Mendoza is behind me," Victoria said. "He told me what happened. He wants an inventory of the stolen items." Her bright-red skirt swished as she entered the bedroom. Sergeant Mendoza stepped up to the doorway.

"My father's in the chapel," Don Diego told him. Mendoza nodded his thanks.

"Don Diego, I'm so sorry," the sergeant said. "The _alcalde_ has patrols combing the hillsides in search of the _bandidos_. I'm sure we'll find them."

Diego nodded. "Thank you, sergeant."

"I'll say a novena for Felipe." As Sergeant Mendoza gazed sadly at Felipe, he made the sign of the cross.

The sergeant touched his cap and walked away. Don Diego turned to Victoria. "How is he?" she whispered.

"Bad." Diego shook his head. "As bad as the shape Father was in when _he_ was shot. Felipe's in critical condition." Victoria hung her head at the news.

A minute later, she raised it and laid a hand on Don Diego's arm. "I'll stay and help," she offered. The compassion in her eyes comforted Don Diego, who smiled at her.

"Thank you." He touched her arm in return. "You're a true friend. When I fell off the mare and, later, when my father was shot, you were right here to help." He swallowed. _"Gracias."_ Victoria smiled at him tenderly, and left the room.

That day was just the beginning of a long ordeal. Day after day, Felipe clung to life. Don Diego, Don Alejandro, and Victoria took turns sitting at his bedside, day and night. Twice a day, Don Diego did the chores in the cave himself, since Felipe was unable to do them. Most of the remainder of the time, Diego sat next to Felipe's bed. Sometimes, he gazed unseeing out the window and thought about his boy. Once, Padre Benitez, who ran the local mission, came to the _hacienda_ to administer last rites to Felipe and to pray for the boy's recovery.

Over and over, Don Diego kept thinking back to the time his father had been shot and lain near death. Almost as soon as Diego had taken a chair at his comatose father's bedside, he had felt a light touch on his shoulder.

Don Diego had looked up to find Felipe standing next to his side. With a questioning glance, the boy had made the sign of the Z with his finger.

Don Diego had shaken his head. "No, Felipe," he had said. "Zorro's place is with his father." He had turned his gaze back to Don Alejandro as he had spoken. Felipe had hung his head and slowly trudged away.

Once, four days after the burglary and shooting, Diego sighed at the memory of that other day. "Zorro's place is with you, Felipe," he told the unconscious boy. "As much as he's needed to look for those _bandidos_, he can't, not now. I'm right here with you, _amigo_. Hang in there." He brushed Felipe's hair out of his eyes. "I love you. We all do. We need you very much. You _must_ live."

**ZZZZZ**

At that moment, while Don Diego sat at Felipe's bedside and spoke to him, the three _bandidos_ who had broken into the de la Vega _hacienda_ crouched around a campfire in a canyon three miles away. The bandit who had impulsively shot Felipe fidgeted and chewed his lower lip. Surely, he thought, the boy would die without regaining consciousness. But, what if he didn't? If the boy recovered, the bandit would be in real trouble-after all, the boy had seen his face!

The bandit glared at the campfire.

"What are you frowning about?" another bandit asked.

"That boy. The one I shot." The first bandit fidgeted some more. "He saw my face before I shot him. If he lives-" He broke off.

"I told you to keep your mask on, Paco," the third bandit said. "But you didn't listen!"

Paco glared at him. "That's enough out of you, Ramon!" He spat on the ground. "I wish there'd been time to finish the boy off before we left."

"We can still do that." The second bandit gulped some water from a canteen. "If you're really worried that the servant boy will identify you." He dropped the canteen.

"We can't do that, Juan. Not yet." Ramon shook his head. "That stupid _alcalde's_ got just about the whole garrison looking for us. If we go back to the de la Vega _hacienda_ now, we might run into a patrol. I think we should just lay low, for now, and see what happens."

"Better yet, let's flee," suggested Juan.

"And _I_ say we take no chances!" shouted Paco. "Let's go back right now, and finish the boy off. If he lives, we'll hang!"

"Are you crazy?" Juan shouted back. "You want to go _now_, while the soldiers are looking for us?"

Paco leaped to his feet. He grabbed Juan by the collar, yanked him to his feet, and punched him. Juan punched him back. "You-"

Ramon jumped up and jerked the two apart. "You _babosos_! That's enough! Now, sit down, both of you!"

Glaring at him, Paco and Juan obeyed. Ramon squatted on his knees. "We'll wait and see what happens," he said. "The boy may die without our help. If he stays alive, then we'll kill him. Meanwhile, we've still got some _haciendas_ to rob."

"_Sí,_ and don't forget the _pueblo's_ doctor," Juan said. "Let's rob him, too, after we've robbed the others on our list. With all the fees he takes for curing people, he must have a lot of money."

"We'll have to lay low first," Ramon said. "Let's stay here in camp for a few days, to give the soldiers time to calm down. Then we'll start robbing."

**ZZZZZ**

Four days later, Felipe was still alive, but comatose. Don Diego, who had slept in a chair the night before, woke up and rubbed his eyes.

At that moment, Don Alejandro stepped into the room. "How is he?" he asked.

Diego looked at the boy and shook his head. "No change." He sighed heavily. "It's been over a week now since Felipe was shot. And there's been _no_ change whatsoever."

Don Alejandro trudged toward the bed. Suddenly, he frowned. He bent down and laid his hand on Felipe's forehead. "Diego, Felipe has a high fever."

Don Diego leaped to his feet. He stared at Felipe's face; it looked flushed. He pressed his hand against Felipe's forehead; it felt burning hot. With shaking hands, Don Diego yanked down the bedcovers, then pulled down the front of Felipe's nightshirt so he could look at the boy's chest. The area surrounding the bandages was red and swollen.

"Father, we need Dr. Hernández immediately." Diego stared at his father as he spoke. Don Alejandro nodded and raced out of the room. A few minutes later, Victoria hurried into the room to help Don Diego.

Minutes after Don Alejandro had sent his servant Manuel to fetch him, Dr. Hernández strode into the room, with Manuel close behind. Without a word, the doctor pulled down the collar of Felipe's nightshirt and gazed at his chest. He then yanked off the bandages and examined the wound.

At last, Dr. Hernández looked at the de la Vegas and shook his head. "The wound has begun to close, but it's badly infected. I'll have to open it up again, to let the poison out. Will one of you help me?"

"I will," offered Diego.

"So will I," added Victoria.

As Don Diego stood by, ready to help, and Don Alejandro watched, arms crossed, Dr. Hernández removed a Toledo-steel knife from his bag and cut the wound open. Victoria held Felipe's shoulders down as he did. "Let it bleed, for the next few minutes. If it hemorrhages, stop it up again," the doctor told Diego and Victoria.

"What are his chances, now?" Diego bent over the wound.

Dr. Hernández shook his head. "If anything, worse than before. This infection is life-threatening. Unless we can treat it, Felipe will die by morning."

Don Diego and Don Alejandro gaped at each other in shock. Victoria stood stock-still, tears welling up in her eyes.

Dr. Hernández laid the knife back in his doctor's bag. "I have a bottle of medicine in my office that I keep for such infections. I can't promise it will save his life, but it _will_ give him a much-needed chance. I'll go back to my office now, and fetch it."

"I'll go with you," Don Alejandro offered. "I've got to do _something_-the suspense is killing me!" He turned to Manuel, who stood in the back of the room. "Get our horses ready. You're going with us-we may need your help."

_"Sí, señor."_ Manuel scampered out of the room.

"I'll be glad to have your company," the doctor told Don Alejandro. The two gentlemen left.

Don Diego smiled, in spite of himself, as he turned to Victoria. "Poor Father. He's such a man of action," he said. "It frustrates him to be so powerless." He sighed. "I feel the same way."

Victoria nodded. "So do I. We all want to do something to help Felipe."

**ZZZZZ**

Don Alejandro, Dr. Hernández, and Manuel galloped their horses to the doctor's house, where he kept his office. As the three men approached the house, the three _bandidos_ who were just leaving it froze as they saw the other three men coming.

Ramon gulped. "We're in trouble." His fist clenched around the leather bag of money he'd stolen. "Juan, Paco and I will wait in the ravine a half-mile from here. You stay here and find out what they want. It's probably medicine for the boy."

Juan nodded. "_Sí._ I will."

The other two bandits crept away. Juan hid next to a window and underneath a bush. The two _caballeros_ and Manuel climbed off their horses.

"Stay out here with the horses," Don Alejandro ordered. "If we need you, I'll call you." Manuel nodded.

Don Alejandro followed the doctor into his office. Suddenly, Dr. Hernández stopped dead in his tracks. _"Madre María-!"_ Dr. Hernández broke off.

Don Alejandro raced toward his side. To his horror, he saw that the office had been ransacked! The equipment and the various medicines lay in scattered piles all over the floor. "Where _is_ the medicine Felipe needs?" he demanded.

Dr. Hernández opened a polished mahogany medicine cabinet and gazed inside. "This cabinet's been emptied," he said. He sorted through the shattered medicine bottles on the floor and looked at the labels. At last, he stood up, with pursed lips. "The medicine has been ruined. We can't use it, now. And unless I miss my guess, my money has been stolen, too."

Don Alejandro felt sick. This was the worst possible catastrophe! Without the medicine, Felipe had _no_ hope of recovery. Something had to be done, fast!

He pursed his lips and clenched his fists against his side. "Those swine! How _dare_ they? They will _pay_ for this, I promise you!" Don Alejandro took a deep breath. "If and when Felipe regains consciousness, I'll question him. Maybe he'll be able to give us some information that will help us capture the bandits."

Dr. Hernández sighed. "Don Alejandro, unless your servant boy receives the medicine before this day is out, he will not live to _be_ questioned."

Don Alejandro swallowed. "Is-is there no other medicine we could use that would fight the infection?"

Dr. Hernández shook his head. "It's the same medicine I once gave you, when _you_ were shot. Maguey sap. Your body was filled with massive infection, the same as Felipe's is. I can't help him without that medicine."

He thought a moment. "Let's see. A doctor I know who lives in Santa Paula recently received a large shipment of the maguey sap. I will ride there immediately and buy some from him. He trusts me; I know he will let me buy it on credit. I've done it before."

Don Alejandro set his jaws. He thought a moment. Then, he nodded. "I will go with you."

The doctor nodded. "As you wish. But first, let's get together some supplies to send to Diego."

The two men gathered some medical supplies to use in treating Felipe. They took the supplies outside to Manuel. "Manuel, someone has ruined the medicine Felipe needs," Don Alejandro told the servant. "We are going to Santa Paula to get some more. We will be back by nightfall. Will you take these to Diego, please, and tell him what is happening?"

_"Sí, patrón,"_ Manuel promised.

Don Alejandro and Dr. Hernández swung onto their horses and rode off. The bandit who had eavesdropped crept away. As he did, Manuel saw him and froze. _That might be one of the_ bandidos_!_ he thought, laying the medical supplies on the ground so it wouldn't attract the bandit's attention.

Manuel followed him from a distance. He was very careful not to let the bandit see him. Minutes later, the bandit disappeared into a clump of trees at the edge of a ravine. Manuel followed until he saw the three men at a distance.

Manuel crept behind a bush and listened. As he did, the bandit told the other two what he had heard Don Alejandro and Dr. Hernández say.

Ramon pursed his lips. "You're right, Paco. The _muchacho_ must die, and so must the gentlemen before they reach Santa Paula. Juan, you go after Señor de la Vega and Dr. Hernández, and take care of them. After we close up our camp, Paco and I will ride to the de la Vega _hacienda_ and take care of the servant boy. Then, we'll meet in Dead Man's Canyon and go south to Mexico City. California has become too hot for us."

Manuel crept away cautiously. As soon as he was out of the ravine, he raced back to the doctor's office. _I must warn Don Diego!_

**ZZZZZ**

Don Diego sat in his chair, gazing at Felipe. Drumming his fingers on the edge of the nightstand, he then stared down at the open family Bible in his lap. He'd been reading it considerably for the past week. And he'd been praying. Now, he anxiously awaited his father's and Dr. Hernández's return.

Suddenly, Manuel rushed into the room. "_Patrón,_ here are some supplies Dr. Hernández has sent you."

Don Diego set the Bible on the nightstand, leaped to his feet, and took the package. "_Gracias._ Where is my father?"

"On his way to Santa Paula with Dr. Hernández," Manuel said.

"Why?" Don Diego grabbed the servant's shoulders. "What happened?"

Breathing heavily, Manuel told him everything. He told Diego about the theft of the medicines, and about the _bandidos'_ plot to murder Felipe and to stop Dr. Hernández from replacing the medicine.

Diego stared at him, white-faced. "The bandits are coming _here_?" he repeated.

Manuel nodded. "Two of them, yes. As soon as they close up their camp. And one is following your father and Dr. Hernández, to stop them from reaching Santa Paula."

Diego clenched his fists. "_Gracias,_ Manuel! Tell Victoria to come here, _por favor,_ then wait for me in the drawing room." Manuel nodded and left the room. When Victoria came in, Don Diego asked her to sit with Felipe. Victoria agreed to do so.

Don Diego raced to the drawing room. "Manuel, I want you to gather every servant in the kitchen," he ordered. " Tell them I said to lock all the doors and windows. I must go after my father and warn him. I'll take a key with me, so I can let myself in."

_"Sí, señor."_ Manuel darted toward the kitchen.

Don Diego then pushed a hidden lever above the fireplace in the library. A secret door in the back of the fireplace swung open. Ducking his head, Diego rushed through the doorway into his laboratory, and yanked his shirt off.

As Diego changed to his Zorro costume, he felt torn inside. If he left Felipe's side to save his father and Dr. Hernández, the two remaining _bandidos_ might reach the _hacienda_ before Zorro returned, and murder Felipe and Victoria. And if he didn't, the third bandit might succeed in keeping his father and Dr. Hernández from reaching Santa Paula, in which case Felipe would die anyway.

"What should I do?" Zorro asked himself, as he tied on his mask. "Whom should I try to save first?"

Only after he had saddled Toronado did he finally make a decision. Since the bandits were going to close up their camp before they rode to the _hacienda_, he would go after the third bandit first. Then, after Zorro had stopped him, he would take one of the hidden Indian trails as a shortcut back to the _hacienda_. He would have to be careful, since there were patrols everywhere. Every minute counted; he could not afford a delay.

A minute later, Zorro rode Toronado out of the secret entrance.

He galloped the black stallion toward the doctor's home and looked for hoofprints that would tell him where his father and Dr. Hernández had ridden. In short order, he found some. For a while, he followed the hoofprints. As he did, he prayed that he would find his father and Dr. Hernández in time to get back to the _hacienda_ before the other two _bandidos_ did. His face grew hot and sweaty underneath the mask, as he galloped across the barren desert that comprised southern California.

At last, from the top of a hill, he saw his father and the doctor ahead of him in the distance. He also saw the third bandit following them from a similar distance. Zorro suspected that the bandit was waiting for the right moment to ambush Don Alejandro and Dr. Hernández.

Zorro set his jaw. The bandit would get no such moment if Zorro could help it!

Taking a shortcut, Zorro rode quietly up behind the bandit. As he approached from behind, Zorro picked up the coil of rope he had wrapped around his saddle horn, and tied one end into a lasso. Waving it, he lassoed the bandit and yanked him off his horse. The bandit yelled as he landed facedown on the dusty ground.

The two gentlemen stopped short and turned their horses sharply around. "Zorro!" Don Alejandro shouted. "What is this?"

"A _bandido_ who wanted to stop you from reaching Santa Paula," Zorro shouted back. "I will deliver him to justice. You go on." He waved. Don Alejandro and Dr. Hernández left.

Zorro tied the bandit's hands behind his back, and tied his ankles together. He slung the bandit over his horse, swung himself on Toronado's back, grabbed the other horse's leather bridle, and led the _bandido_ toward Los Angeles. He rode as quickly as he dared; there was no time to waste in picking the bandit up off the ground if he was thrown off.

Soon, Zorro entered a canyon. Up ahead, as he reached a bend, he found a patrol of soldiers approaching him. Sergeant Mendoza led the others.

Mendoza pulled his horse up short. _"Z-Zorro?!"_ he gasped. "Seize him!" he ordered the lancers.

Zorro held up his hands. "Just a minute, sergeant! This is one of the men who robbed the de la Vegas and shot Felipe." He nodded toward the bandit, who snarled. "The same bandits who robbed the _alcalde_. This one tried to ambush Dr. Hernández and Don Alejandro, a short while ago." Zorro backed Toronado up as he spoke.

"Lancers, seize the _bandido_," Sergeant Mendoza ordered. The lancers did just that.

"Now, seize Zorro!" Mendoza shouted. "The _alcalde_ will have our heads if we let him get away!"

The lancers rode after Zorro, who unsheathed his Toledo-steel saber and fought them. As he did, Zorro felt frustrated. While he was dueling with the soldiers, the remaining bandits were probably on their way to the de la Vega _hacienda_. He _must_ get away, _fast_!

Zorro removed a small pouch from his sash and hurled it to the ground front of him. As it landed, it made a bright light, and thick, heavy smoke shot upward. In seconds, the smoke had spread everywhere.

As Zorro turned Toronado around, he heard the lancers cursing. "Where is Zorro?" Sergeant Mendoza shouted.

"Where you'll never find him," Zorro muttered, as he kicked his boots against Toronado's sides and bent forward. He rode up a shallow rise to the top of the canyon.

After riding a short distance, he found an Indian trail that led straight past the de la Vega _hacienda_. Zorro took it. It would serve as a shortcut.

Soon, he could see the de la Vega _hacienda_ in the distance. To his horror, he saw two strange horses tied to the hitching posts. He recognized them as being the same horses the bandits had fled the _hacienda_ on. His stomach churned.

Was Zorro too late? As Zorro approached, he prayed that the bandits had not forced open a window.

Since the doors and windows were locked (he hoped), Zorro circled the _hacienda_ and rode toward the secret entrance that lay in the hills behind the _hacienda_. Toronado galloped into the cave. Zorro jumped off his back and raced toward the library entrance. Every second counted now! Even at that moment, if the bandits had found a way in, they might be murdering Felipe and Victoria.

**ZZZZZ**

The bandits were not, at that moment, murdering Felipe and Victoria, but they were dangerously close to doing so. They had arrived at the _hacienda_ before Zorro had. They had tried every door and window, looking for a way in, only to find them locked. At last, they had found a window that the servants had overlooked, and climbed in.

The two _bandidos_ now crept down a hall, glancing into each bedroom. "The boy will be in one of the bedrooms," Ramon whispered. "If he's still alive, that is."

"If he is-" Paco grasped the handle of his pistol and pursed his lips together.

At last, they heard a young woman's voice coming from one of the bedrooms further down the hall. The two bandits looked at each other and grinned.

"We will kill the woman, too," Paco whispered. "And Don Diego de la Vega, if we find him. And any servant we come across. Then, we'll leave." Ramon nodded.

The bandits tiptoed toward the door to that bedroom, their leather boots clicking softly on the gleaming marble floor. They stopped in front of the door for a moment, and listened. Each bandit carefully pulled his pistol out of his holster and cocked it. Ramon led the way into the bedroom.

Victoria leaped to her feet and stared at them. Her face turned white. "What-what do you want?" she gasped.

"To send that _muchacho_ to meet his Maker." Paco pointed the gun at Felipe as he spoke; Ramon pointed his at Victoria. "And you, too," Paco added, as he aimed his gun at the unconscious Felipe.

"That would be a mistake, _señor_." Zorro's ice-cold voice came from the doorway.

"Zorro!" Victoria cried joyfully.

"At your service, as always, _señorita_." Zorro ducked as the two bandits fired their pistols at him; the bullets missed by inches. Zorro then unsheathed his saber and swung it upward in a salute.

The grim-faced bandits drew out their rapiers and lunged. Zorro parried, lunged, and thrusted. One of the bandits pulled a steel knife out of his belt and threw it at Zorro. Zorro deflected it with his sword; it slammed into a bedpost, with a thud.

Minutes after he had begun, Zorro sent the _bandidos'_ swords flying through the air, one by one. He punched each bandit in the face; they slumped to the floor, unconscious. He then cut a 'Z' in the back of each bandit's homespun cotton shirt.

"Are you all right?" Zorro asked Victoria. She nodded, then gazed at Felipe with deep pain in her eyes.

"I wish I could say the same for him." She sighed. "He's been in a coma for the past week, and now, his gunshot wound is badly infected."

Zorro looked sadly at the unconscious boy and nodded. "So I heard. Dr. Hernández and Don Alejandro are on their way to Santa Paula to get some medicine to fight that infection. The third bandit tried to stop them, but he's in the _alcalde's_ hands by now." He glanced down at the unconscious bandits. "And now, I will see that these two join him. Oh, by the way, Don Diego should be back, very soon. He rode after his father to warn him of the ambush, but I persuaded him to come back here and stay with Felipe."

Victoria smiled. "_Gracias._ Don Diego would have been no match for that bandit, had he run into him."

Zorro smiled at her and kissed her hand. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I must deliver these _bandidos_ to the _alcalde_."

"I'll get a servant to help you carry them outside." Victoria left the room.

Minutes later, a ranchhand helped Zorro tie the bandits to their horses. Zorro was eager to deliver them to jail so he could return to Felipe's bedside. He led the bandits to Los Angeles and left them just outside the _plaza_. He searched the saddlebags until he found the de la Vegas' stolen possessions; he removed them, and stuffed them into his own saddlebag. He slapped the horses on their rumps, and they trotted into the _plaza_. Even as Zorro rode away, he overheard Sergeant Mendoza ordering his lancers to untie the bandidos and take them to the _cuartel_.

Zorro returned to the de la Vega _hacienda_ and knocked on the mahogany door. A servant opened it. "I wish to see Señorita Escalante, please," Zorro said.

The servant nodded and disappeared. A minute later, Victoria appeared. "Zorro! Are the bandits in jail?"

Zorro nodded. "Here are the de la Vegas' stolen possessions." He held them out. "Would you please see that they get them?"

Victoria nodded and took the objects. "Won't you come in and rest before you ride off?"

Zorro sighed and shook his head. "I would like nothing better, but I've got to make sure that Dr. Hernández makes it safely to Santa Paula. _Adios,_ Victoria. I will pray for Felipe."

Zorro climbed on Toronado and rode to the cave. He removed his costume and put on his regular clothes. He unsaddled and groomed Toronado. Then, he left the cave and returned to Felipe's bedroom.

"I just saw Zorro; he said he's taken care of the _bandidos_." Don Diego eased himself into the chair he had occupied for the past week.

_"Sí."_ Victoria nodded. "And he returned the items the bandits stole. They're in the library."

_"Bueno."_ Diego rubbed his eyes and sighed.

Victoria squeezed his shoulder. "I'll be in the drawing room if you need me," she said, softly. As Diego nodded his gratitude, she left the room.

That evening, after Don Diego had done the chores in the cave, Don Alejandro and Dr. Hernández arrived just as the sun was setting. As Victoria led them into Felipe's bedroom, Diego rose to his feet. Dr. Hernández carried one bottle, and Don Alejandro carried two.

"How is he?" Don Alejandro looked at Felipe as he spoke.

"Still barely clinging to life." Don Diego took the third bottle from his father, who removed his riding gloves. "The _bandidos_ are in jail, and our stolen possessions have been returned to us. Now, what?"

"Now, I start giving the boy the medicine." Dr. Hernández set his bottle on the nightstand. "One dose, every two hours. All night."

As Victoria and the de la Vegas watched, Dr. Hernández gave Felipe his first dose of the maguey sap. The doctor then straightened his back and sighed. "Well, that's it, for now." He leaned against the wall. "By morning, gentlemen, we should know the outcome. Why don't you go to bed, now, and get some rest?"

Don Diego shook his head. "No, I think I'll stay here. I couldn't sleep if I tried."

"Neither could I." Don Alejandro sat down in another chair. "I'll stay, too." He slapped his gloves absentmindedly against his left hand, then laid them down on the table next to the water basin.

Victoria nodded. "I guess we all will."

Diego pulled Felipe's desk chair from under the boy's polished mahogany desk and perched himself on it. For a few minutes, he fingered Felipe's rosary, the one legacy the boy had from his late family. As Don Diego leaned back, he once again thought back to the time his father had been shot. What a grim parallel existed between his father's ordeal and Felipe's!

Don Alejandro stood up and rubbed the back of his neck. He trudged toward Diego and perched on the desk. "Are you all right?" he asked his son.

Don Diego sighed heavily and nodded. "I was just thinking about the day you were shot by the payroll bandits. It was terrible, seeing you lie in bed delirious and comatose, not knowing if you were going to live." Diego's chest tightened. "And then-with Victoria shot-!" His voice choked; he fought tears.

Don Alejandro squeezed Diego's shoulder. "I know, son," he said, softly. "I know." He gazed at Felipe. "But we lived, Victoria and I. And now, we must pray that Felipe will, too." As Don Diego nodded, Don Alejandro removed his gold timepiece from his vest pocket and glanced at it.

Diego rose to his feet and trudged to the window. Leaning his head against the smooth, cool windowpane, he gazed out, unseeing, for a long time. The landscape gradually darkened, and the first stars came out.

It was going to be a long night, Diego realized. Would the medicine work? Would morning find Felipe alive-or dead? What if it was too late to save him? Diego shuddered at the thought.

It was indeed a long night. Don Diego and Don Alejandro sat in chairs and paced the bedroom. They worried and prayed. Sometimes, they spoke; mostly, they remained silent. Victoria spent long periods in the family chapel, praying, and the rest of the time, she sat in Felipe's bedroom, offering her silent support. Sometimes, she went to the kitchen to get some coffee for the de la Vegas, Dr. Hernández, and herself.

Dr. Hernández stayed at the unconscious boy's side every second. Again and again, every two hours, he gave Felipe another dose of the maguey sap.

At last, morning dawned. As the sun rose, the de la Vegas and Victoria slept in their chairs, worn-out and exhausted. Even Dr. Hernández sat dozing.

Don Diego opened his eyes and glanced out the window. _It's sunrise!_ He sat up straight and stared at Felipe.

Was Felipe still breathing? It was still too dark to tell. Don Diego stood up and lit a candle, then hurried to the boy's bedside. As he grasped the candle, Diego bent down to feel Felipe's chest. It rose and fell, as it always did. Diego then set the candle down on the nightstand and felt Felipe's forehead. It felt cool and sweaty; the fever had broken.

Suddenly, Felipe yawned and turned his head. He opened his eyes and looked around the bedroom. He gaped at Don Alejandro, Victoria, and Dr. Hernández, asleep in their chairs. He then stared up at Don Diego, bewilderment in his eyes.

Don Diego stood stock-still and caught his breath. Tears filled his eyes.

"Felipe!" Diego gasped. "Felipe-_amigo_-!" His voice choked, as he buried his face in the pillow next to Felipe's head and rested his arm across Felipe's chest. "You're alive! Thank you, God!" He took a deep breath and kissed the boy's forehead, then gently wiped the sweat off Felipe's face with his handkerchief.

As Don Diego straightened up, Don Alejandro, Victoria, and Dr. Hernández opened their eyes and leaned forward. Broad smiles lit up their faces. "My boy," Don Alejandro said huskily, as he rushed to Felipe's side. "You gave us quite a scare, _amigo_." Bending down, he brushed Felipe's hair out of his eyes and rested his own cheek on the boy's forehead. When Don Alejandro straightened his back, Victoria kissed Felipe's left cheek. Felipe gazed at everyone with a questioning look on his face.

Dr. Hernández pressed his fingertips against Felipe's wrist and felt his pulse. He then examined the wound. "The swelling is going down," he announced. He felt Felipe's forehead. "And the fever is broken. The boy is going to pull through." He picked up his bag and patted Felipe's shoulder. "Keep Felipe quiet, and feed him broth and fruit juice. I'll be back this evening to check on him." He left the room.

The de la Vegas and Victoria surrounded Felipe as he gazed at each of them, evidently puzzled. "You were shot in the chest," Don Diego told him, as he took the boy's hand. "Over a week ago. By _bandidos_ who broke into our _hacienda_ while my father and I were out." He squeezed Felipe's hand.

"We didn't know if you were going to live or not," Don Alejandro told him. "Things looked pretty bad for you, for a while. But you're going to be all right now. And the bandits who did this to you are in jail."

Felipe raised his hand, with the intent to ask a question, but Don Diego pressed it back gently against the soft bedcovers. "No, Felipe." Don Diego shook his head. "Not just yet. I know you have questions, but you must wait until you're stronger to ask them. For now, I want you to get some rest." He gently placed Felipe's arms under the bedcovers and pulled the covers up around his neck. "Sleep now, _amigo_. When you wake up, I'll feed you some chicken broth and grape juice." Smiling tenderly, he smoothed Felipe's hair and gently squeezed his shoulder. Felipe sighed out his surrender and closed his eyes.

**ZZZZZ**

One week later, Dr. Hernández told Felipe that he could sit up in a chair for 15 minutes. "You're still quite weak, young man, and you still need lots of rest," the doctor said. "It's going to be another few weeks or so before you can resume your lighter duties on a part-time basis, and longer still before you can resume your normal schedule."

"We'll see that he follows your orders," Don Alejandro promised.

After the doctor had left, Don Diego supported Felipe, as the boy shuffled to a light-blue silk brocade couch that stood across the room from his bed. With Diego's help, he slowly eased himself onto the couch and leaned back to catch his breath. His cheeks were hollow, and the short walk had tired him. Diego sat down next to Felipe, and Don Alejandro and Victoria sat in chairs close by. "When your fifteen minutes are up, we'll play a game of chess, you and me," Don Diego promised Felipe. Felipe grinned. He loved to play chess and was very good at it.

For a few minutes, they sat in a peaceful silence, thinking grateful thoughts. Don Diego gazed at the flowers, piles of letters, and other get-well presents that _caballeros_, farmers, villagers, and members of the de la Vega household had sent to Felipe during the past week.

Don Diego put his arm around Felipe's shoulder. "You're a fine young man, _amigo,_" he told Felipe, who smiled. "Too fine a young man to lose the way we almost did. We still need you." He drew the boy against his side in a hug. Felipe buried his head against Diego's shoulder. Don Diego gazed at him as affection welled up in his heart.

"Amen to that," Don Alejandro said. "We certainly do." Victoria smiled and nodded agreement.

"There are a lot of people who love you," Diego told the boy, as he waved toward the letters and gifts. Felipe looked at them and smiled. "You'll be very busy writing thank-you notes in the near future, won't you, Felipe?" Don Diego grinned, and Felipe rolled his eyes at the thought. The de la Vegas had always made him write a thank-you note to anyone who sent him a gift. Don Alejandro, Don Diego, and Victoria chuckled at the expression on the boy's face.

Everyone sat silent for another several minutes. Suddenly, Felipe frowned. He glanced at Don Alejandro and signed a question.

Don Alejandro nodded. "Yes, Felipe, some of our most prized possessions were stolen. But Zorro got them back for us."

Felipe smiled at him, then at Don Diego, who alone understood the meaning of the boy's smile. Felipe signed another question.

"Yes, Zorro captured the thieves as well," Don Diego told him. "And Sergeant Mendoza stopped by a few days ago to tell my father that they've been hung." Felipe smiled his relief. "Yes! I'm glad, too," Diego said. "Those bandits tried to kill you again-you and Señorita Escalante-the day before your fever broke. I'm certainly relieved they won't be able to try that, again."

"So am I," Victoria said. "That was the day Zorro captured them. They tried to murder us, Felipe, _and_ tried to stop Dr. Hernández and Don Alejandro from reaching Santa Paula. They were on their way to get you some medicine."

Felipe shuddered. Don Diego squeezed his right shoulder. "It's all over, my friend," he said, soothingly. "You're on the mend, now, and the bandits have been hung." Felipe smiled and nodded.

Don Alejandro pulled out his timepiece and glanced at it. "All right, Felipe, your 15 minutes are up. Back to bed. I'll fetch your chessboard."

Felipe nodded his acquiescence. As Don Alejandro picked up Felipe's chessboard and carried it to the nightstand, Don Diego helped Felipe stand up and led him back to his bed.

"When my father and Victoria leave the room, I'll tell you all about how Zorro captured the _bandidos_," Don Diego said, mouthing the words so that only Felipe would understand them. Felipe smiled in anticipation as Don Diego helped him lie down in his bed and pulled the covers over him.

**©1998, by KathyG.**


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